


Bad People, Guns, Bombs, and Krogan Beer

by la_dissonance, themerrygentleman



Category: Leverage, Mass Effect Trilogy, Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Audio Format: MP3, Audio Format: Streaming, Brief scene of emotional abuse, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Gen, Podfic, Podfic Length: 1.5-2 Hours
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-25
Updated: 2017-08-25
Packaged: 2018-12-02 16:52:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11513496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/la_dissonance/pseuds/la_dissonance, https://archiveofourown.org/users/themerrygentleman/pseuds/themerrygentleman
Summary: Miranda never intended to start a crusade against her former employers. Sadly for her, a nosy teenager, a trio of con artists, and an impulsive researcher have other ideas.





	Bad People, Guns, Bombs, and Krogan Beer

**Author's Note:**

> Somewhere during our brainstorming process, [themerrygentleman](http://archiveofourown.org/users/themerrygentleman) pointed out that in Mass Effect canon, there is a slim window in the year 2185 when the events of Mass Effect 2 are still ongoing, but the Andromeda Initiative has not yet left the Milky Way. Since that makes a ME2/MEA fic barely a crossover (and because HEIST) we decided to throw the Leverage crew into the mix as well. 
> 
> Many thanks to [themerrygentleman](http://archiveofourown.org/users/themerrygentleman) for being an excellent collaborator! It was great fun working together, and this fic wouldn't be what it was without his brainstorming, canon knowledge, and beta work. Thanks also to the mods for running such a fun fest.
> 
> For more detail on the tagged content, see notes at the end of the work.

 

**Podfic Length:** 122:18

**[MP3 Download link](http://pod-together.parakaproductions.com/2017/Bad%20People%2C%20Guns%2C%20Bombs%2C%20and%20Krogan%20Beer.mp3) **

* * *

 

They've been in the Rosetta nebula for fifty-four days, and Sid is bored out of her mind. Living so deep in the Terminus Systems that you're almost on the fringes of geth space, it turns out, is no fun at all when you're living in a heavily fortified self-contained spaceport the size of a small moon and working on the right side of the law. The right side of the law involves pesky things like child labor laws that ensure Sid isn't working at all. Vetra has even started talking about sending her to school.

School is tolerable if Sid's there to suck up to some boring rich kid whose parent is a planetary council member or has industry connections Vetra can use. One time, Sid had made friends with the CEO of Devlon Industries' kid, so the guys Vetra was working with at the time could steal stuff out of his family's house on the Citadel under the guise of a supervised 'play date'. Vetra apologized for that one for months, but it had been awesome. Plus, that kid was a jerk.

School is actively fun if Sid can go through the courses at her own speed, skipping around to whatever's most interesting in the moment. She's already more than halfway to a communications degree, and if she were back in regular school back on Palaven, she'd have barely picked a specialty yet.

Between courses, Sid has amused herself by hacking into every system she can find on the station, from the networked cash register at the shop around the corner, to the design system used by the engineers building the Nexus itself. Unfortunately, seeing Sid work on anything that isn't directly educational only seems to make Vetra make more noise about school.

Which is why Sid is sitting in a busy cafe near the commercial hub of the spaceport, well out of Vetra's view. She's currently keeping very discreet tabs on a human with light skin and long brown hair, some kind of tactical jumpsuit, and an impressive array of weapons strapped to her body.

The human, who Sid has dubbed Assassin Woman in the privacy of her own mind, has been skulking around the port in the past few days, casing out establishments where mercs congregate. She appears to be looking for something. Sid intends to find out what.

Sid's lucky today. So far, Assassin Woman has mostly gone into bars and clubs, places Vetra would almost certainly hear about if Sid tried to sneak into. In this cafe, though, Sid's been able to watch her for almost half an hour, uninterrupted. Assassin Woman has been sipping tea and doing a passable job at looking casual while keeping an eye on another human across the cafe. The second human has light skin and light hair, mostly covered by a cap pulled low over her face. Her civilian clothes and slouched posture make her look a lot less dangerous than Assassin Woman, but anyone would look less dangerous next to her conversation partner, who is the most ancient, battle-scarred krogan Sid has ever seen.

Abruptly, the krogan slams his fist on the table and stalks out of the cafe. The human in the hat touches her ear and mouths something — to a partner on coms, maybe? Sid should see if she can hack into them — and heads to the restroom, depositing her empty plate in the dirty dishes bin on her way there.

Not even a minute later, Sid has to hastily duck behind her pile of datapads in her best imitation of an oblivious student, as Assassin Woman abandons her tea cup on her table and stalks into the restroom after the second human.

Sid is half-convinced she's about to witness a murder. With nervous excitement singing through her veins, she gathers up her things as casually as she can and slips through the door to the restroom.

There's no one there.

-

Parker hasn't been having the best day. To start with, the hot water in their shitty prefab spaceport apartment had been broken again, and it put Hardison in a bad mood. Parker doesn't get the importance of hot showers in the grand scheme of things, but she likes her partners to be happy.

Then Drack wasted her entire morning trying to get them to investigate another specious threat against his granddaughter, which took Hardison less than five minutes of searching on the public extranet to disprove. Parker almost wants to take Drack aside and give him a crash course in information literacy so he can rest easy, but she gets the impression that mostly he just wants someone to tell him his granddaughter is going to be fine.

And now there's an undercover Cerberus operative accosting Parker in a dark alley.

"A moment of your time, please."

Parker leaps up onto a stack of crates and surveys the operative from her higher vantage point. Indeterminate age, openly armed, currently rolling her eyes.

"I'm not going to attack you, I just want to talk. You can come down from there."

"I'd rather stay up here," Parker says, cooly. "Any intel?" she asks over the coms.

"Facial recognition's got nothing yet, but it's still running," Hardison says. "Keep her talking."

"Copy," Parker says.

Eliot chimes in. "Need any backup, Parker?"

"Stand by," Parker says. She thinks she could take the operative on her own, if this is some kind of trap. Unless she's a biotic. Fuck, she's probably a biotic.

The Cerberus operative makes a big show of noticing Parker talking on the coms and waits for her to finish. "My name is Miranda Lawson. Formerly with Cerberus, currently on a covert operation. Believe it or not, I'm here because I want to employ your team on a job."

Parker jumps down from the crates. If Miranda is a biotic, having the higher ground is distinctly not an advantage. "Huh. Make it more interesting than the last guy's job and I might listen."

As Miranda opens her mouth to speak, Parker catches a flash of motion in the grimy wall behind her, and a gangly turian teen with a giant backpack bursts out of the kitchen door. Parker blinks. At this rate, the narrow alley is going to get crowded. She remembers the teen from the cafe. She'd been hiding behind a pile of datapads, conspicuously not doing any studying. Parker had figured she was waiting for a crush to show up, or whatever normal teens did in this quadrant.

At the crash of the door against the wall, Miranda turns around. "Who are you?"

"Sid," the teen says, and offers no other information. Parker approves. It doesn't make up for the terrible judgement call of following them out to the alley, but it's a solid choice in itself.

"There's no exit this way," Miranda says, dropping a hand to the pistol on her hip. "You'll have to go back through the restaurant."

"Let her stay," Parker says. Miranda makes an exasperated sound, but Parker has her eyes on Sid. "You followed us out here?"

Sid glances from Parker to Miranda and back again. "I thought maybe she was going to kill you."

Miranda scoffs. "And you were going to stop me? Do you have training?"

"No. But I couldn't not do anything."

Parker revises her opinion on Sid's judgement: still terrible, but not misguided.

Over the coms, Eliot says, "In position if you need me, Parker," but it sounds like he's more amused than concerned.

"I'm checking your girl's story," Hardison adds. "All I can verify is when she says covert ops, she means covert. I'm not getting anything, it's like she doesn't exist."

"Got it," Parker says. She turns to Miranda. "What's the job?"

"It's confidential," Miranda says. She gives Sid an arch look that probably would be a scowl, if scowling weren't beneath her dignity.

"I have a secure office, if you'd rather," Parker offers. The office is where most of their money went, when they stopped by the spaceport to see what was happening and decided to set up shop.

"Let's save that for if we ever need to discuss particulars." She leans heavily on the 'if'.

"All right, but my team's going to need a little more than 'a job exists' to decide whether we want to take it," Parker says.

A human in a food-stained smock comes through the kitchen door, holding a bag of garbage in each hand. They all fall silent and shuffle to the side to let him pass to the communal garbage chute at the end of the alley. He gives them a weird look but just shakes his head without saying anything.

"I'll keep this short," Miranda says, as soon as the cook goes back inside. "I've recently come into possession of some disturbing intelligence. There's a group here that intends to do a great deal of harm to civilians, and —" she glances at Sid, and purses her lips. "— very soon they'll be out of reach of anyone who knows the danger they pose. I need your team to take them down, quickly and discreetly. I already tried once, but now they're out of my jurisdiction. Will you help, or do I need to keep looking?"

Sid's mandibles flutter in excitement. "Out of reach — do you mean they're on the Initiative? My sister works for the chief engineer for the Nexus. If you need to let the higher-ups know what's going on, I can help."

"I have my own contacts in the Initiative, there's no need—" Miranda starts.

Sid gives her an incredulous look. "You got here two days ago! If your contacts were any good, you'd have fixed this already."

Miranda narrows her eyes. "Have you been following me?"

Parker interrupts. "Obviously, she has been." She turns to Sid. "A solid contact in the Initiative might come in handy."

"Does this mean you'll take the job?" Miranda asks.

This is about five hundred percent more interesting than all of Drack's cases put together. "My partners and I will need to discuss it before we commit to anything," Parker says. "And I think we'll need those particulars."

-

Jack kicks her feet up on the low table in front of her and leans back in the plush arm chair. This is going to be good. They're in a semi-circular room with a high window on a busy courtyard in the commercial district, thoughtfully coated in one-way film for privacy. It's furnished with couches, armchairs, and low tables, giving it more the air of an upscale therapist's office than a briefing room.

Jack's sitting right up front, where Miranda can't help but see her and give a tiny twitch of displeasure every time she scans the room.

"Thank you all for making the time to meet me here," Miranda says, shooting a pointed look at Jack as she continues, "Though your attendance here is certainly not required; my intent is to take care of a personal matter quickly and discreetly with minimal impact on the rest of the crew."

Jack snorts out loud. As fucking if. She's not about to let Miranda get away with sweeping whatever Cerberus atrocities she committed in her past under the rug with nothing but a short leave of absence, like she'd asked Shepard for. As soon as Jack overheard that, she'd dragged in as many members of the crew as would join her. Mordin and Tali were easy. Kasumi was more of a long shot. She wouldn't give an answer either way and didn't show up. Shepard was a given as soon as Jack insinuated she might be needed to keep the peace between Jack and Miranda. But Jacob, creeping in late and sitting uncomfortably in the back, is a surprise. Maybe he's here to make sure no one speaks ill against his beloved employer, or report back to the Illusive Man if they do. Jack makes a mental note to watch him once they get back to the Normandy.

At the front of the room, Miranda brings up a video on the holo display. It's grainy surveillance footage of a man and a woman, Cerberus logo just barely visible on their white lab coats.

"Maria and Coby Acker. Two years ago, they were technicians on a team working under me, when I found out they were using Cerberus facilities and funds to conduct mind-control 'research' that was outside mission parameters, cruel, and deeply unethical. I ordered them to stop, but they continued their research against orders. When it came out, they were relieved of their positions."

A tall black man in the middle of the room raises his hand and speaks up when Miranda nods at him. Jack had been introduced to him as one of the independent contractors Miranda was trying to hire under their noses, though not in those exact terms. "Two years ago — right around when all that stuff with Eden Prime and the attack on the Citadel was going down?"

"A little after. I was heading a — high-priority project at the time." Miranda's eyes rest on Shepard for a half second and slide away. Not reading the new people in on the whole raising the dead thing, then. "So my attention was a bit divided. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to give these two the follow-up they deserved."

"Where are they now?" Tali asks.

Miranda changes the picture. The grainy lab coats are replaced by civilian clothes, and the resolution gets crisper. It looks like they're in line at a port, in customs maybe.

"A few days ago, one of my contacts forwarded me this. They're on this station, and appear to have submitted applications to join the Andromeda Initiative."

The man who had spoken before — Hardison, Jack thinks his name is, or something beginning with H — mutters a curse under his breath.

"Exactly. Their work with Cerberus wasn't exactly public record, nor was the reason for their termination. If they're accepted into the Initiative, in six weeks they'll be whisked away to the Andromeda galaxy, where the only thing stopping them from continuing their research, or expanding on a larger scale, for that matter, will be how many resources they can get their hands on."

"It might be much less than six weeks," says a voice from the other side of the room. Sounds turian, and young. Jack wrinkles her brow. There aren't any turians here; Garrus stayed behind.

Miranda's eyebrows crawl into her hairline. "Parker, is that —"

A blonde woman who must be Parker spins her small viewscreen around to show an ongoing video chat with the turian teen who had spoken. "Hey, turn me back around, I can't see," she whines.

"Sid's contracting with us on the job," Parker says, fake chipper. It's as good a way as any to deal with Miranda.

"And it's a good thing I am. You think you have until the launch to figure this out, but only the Pathfinder teams and a few select crew even get to stay awake for the launch. Everyone else is being put into stasis in waves, so they can get packed up and out of the way. If you give me a sec I can find out." Sid falls silent and there's nothing but the muted sound of typing for a minute. "They're in boarding group 72H, which is scheduled for cryo in...eight days."

Miranda waits for the murmuring in the room to die down. "All right. This means we have to work fast. The clip I'm going to play now will contain graphic content," she warns. Jack tunes it out. Anything these low-level techs can cook up, someone more competent has done to her ten times worse. She doesn't need video footage to believe Cerberus is capable of horrors.

Instead, Jack scans the room. Jacob's still leaning against the wall in the back, looking like he might leave any moment. Mordin, Shepard, and Tali are behind her, looking respectively interested, mildly repulsed, and unreadable. The room's only other occupants, Parker, Hardison, and their partner whose name Jack never bothered to learn, are clustered together on a couch, watching the footage with drawn faces.

"We'll do it," Parker says, as soon as the video ends.

"Agreed," Mordin says. "Ackers' work torture, not science. Imperative to stop."

"I'm in," Jack says. "Let's fucking take down Cerberus."

Miranda puts a hand to her forehead and sighs. "We're not taking down Cerberus, Jack. The Ackers aren't even with Cerberus anymore — if they were, it would make my job a lot easier."

"I can't believe you," Jack spits. She kicks her feet off the table and leans forward. "As if any other organization would incubate this kind of sick fuck and then just turn them loose on the world. That doesn't solve anything. It just makes them look better. And you get to benefit off their reputation —"

"Hey," Shepard cuts in before Jack's tirade can get going. "Jack, remember the rule?"

Jack glares at her, bitter words caught in her throat. "Yes."

"And the rule is...?"

Sometimes Jack really, really hates Shepard. "No overthrowing Cerberus until we save the galaxy."

"Thank you," Shepard says, as if Jack's a misbehaving child and Shepard is an infinitely reasonable parent. Not that Jack would know what that's like. She's extrapolating. "And why did we agree on that rule?"

Jack just glares at her harder. She feels like a pot about to boil over, angry at everything — that Shepard would treat her like this, that Shepard would treat her like this in front of all these people, that she agreed to the stupid rule in the first place, that Cerberus is out there hurting people and she can't do anything about it in here. Under her skin, the potential energy of her biotics gathers like a rubber band stretched tight.

When she doesn't get a response, Shepard just continues, seemingly oblivious to the storm brewing in Jack's limbs. "Because, first of all, we aren't able to take down all of Cerberus - they're a giant, decentralized organization, and we're one crew. Second, even if we could take them down, we need them — it won't do people much good to live in a Cerberus-free galaxy if it gets destroyed by the Reapers two weeks later. And third, I don't trust Cerberus any more than you do —" Lies, Jack thinks viciously "— but I need to be able to trust my crew. And that includes trusting that they won't run off on me to sabotage our benefactor until the mission is done."

The people sitting between Jack and Shepard have edged away, and in a detached way Jack hates it, hates making people afraid. It gets caught up in a feedback loop and only makes her angrier. "I can't fucking sit through this," she growls, and storms past Shepard to the door. It's locked.

Jack boils over. Energy crackles around her, not confined under the skin anymore, and her tenuous control snaps. It's such a relief. Others describe using biotics as pushing or pulling, in terms of effort. For Jack it just feels like stepping out of the way.

When her head clears, she's standing on the other side of a door-sized hole in the wall. The door itself might be the twisted metal shape lying like a candy wrapper at the far end of the hallway, or maybe not. Overhead, there are some ceiling panels missing. Jack shrugs off the residual tension in her shoulders and strides down the hallway, presses the button to summon the elevator. No one comes after her.

-

Tali finds her after, in a bar around the corner. It's ten-thirty in the morning, but the bar's running on spaceport hours: Jack's ten-thirty AM is the end of someone else's shift, and the middle of another person's night. In the corner, three young asari are dancing in a tight circle and loudly calling for shots. Down on the other end of the bar, a pair of dock workers are nursing beers and picking over a shared plate of roasted nuts.

Jack drains her drink and turns to Tali, who takes the seat next to her. "What happened after I left?"

Tali sighs. "Where to start." She pauses as Jack orders another drink, declining when the bartender turns to her.

"I'm surprised Shepard didn't come running after me to finish her lecture."

"She said she'd find you back on the Normandy," Tali says. Jack grimaces. "That was pretty much the end of Miranda's presentation. Parker — she's the team leader, as far as I can tell — had some follow up questions, but they agreed to take the job."

"Huh," Jack says. "It doesn't seem much like Miranda, farming this out to strangers. She's too much of a control freak."

"She said the targets would recognize her face. Didn't want to get too close and scare them off. And she probably didn't want any of us to know about this."

Jack snorts. "Yeah, that sounds like her."

"Do you think we should let her get away with that? Keeping us out, I mean. This may be our best chance to actually do something."

Jack looks at Tali out of the corner of her eye. "Hell no. We know her sordid problem now. She couldn't keep us out if she wanted. Shepard doesn't want us doing anything besides putting these scientists behind bars, though. You heard her in there."

"I love Shepard, but I can't stand her lately. Cerberus brings her back to life and what, she thinks she owes them? I don't know what I'll do if I have to watch her go along with them for much longer. But she can't think she can lead the Illusive Man to whatever he's looking for and walk away free. It doesn't work that way."

Jack raises her glass to Tali. "All right, then. We play along and use this to crack the whole thing wide open. What's our first move?"

"First move was crashing Miranda's presentation," Tali says. Her mask is opaque as always, but there's a smile in her voice.

"That's one down."

"Next move..we get close to the contractors. Tail them. First priority is exposing these scientists before they get away. We make sure that happens."

Jack nods.

"After that we use the exposure, I think. Rip open their airlock and make sure they can't close it until all their secrets vent out. Keep opening doors, eventually people will join us. Shepard knows that reporter on the Citadel; if she won't help us, she's got to have friends who will. Cerberus operates in shadow, so we'll take their shadows away."

"Fuck yeah. Don't tell anyone, but I might be in love with you for this," Jack says. She downs the last swallow of her drink, spirits burning fire down her throat. "How do we do step two?"

"Ahead of you," Tali says. "I put tracker nanites on their shoes."

Jack grins. "In that case, lead on."

-

"Eat up," Eliot says, sliding a plate down in front of Hardison. It smells amazing. Hardison has no idea how he does it — he'd looked this morning, and he could have sworn the only things in the fridge were the sterile, prepackaged rations sold at every shop here. Eliot is a culinary wizard, there's no question about it, but at least when they're planetside it's possible to explain where he gets his raw materials.

"Thanks, babe." Hardison leans back and kisses the closest part of Eliot he can reach before he pulls away, managing to catch him on the elbow.

"Weirdo," Eliot says, and gives his head an affectionate little shove. Hardison kisses his hand in retaliation and Eliot walks away chuckling.

"Gross," Sid whines, over the vidcom.

Hardison turns his attention back to the screen and points at her with his fork. "Hey, you don't get to come into my house and criticise how I am with my partner, kid. I can end this call right now."

"No, it's just —" Sid makes a face.

Hardison grins. "I'm just messing with you. You'll get it when you get partnered up yourself." He pauses, thoughtful. "Or maybe not, who knows. I was into all that romantic shit since I was little, was always a sucker for those stories where the hero gets their true love and a happily ever after. Anyway, we've strayed far afield."

"Right," Sid agrees, looking more confident as she turns her attention to the readout on their shared screen.

"So you can get into the admin layer and see when they're boarding group's scheduled for cryo — can you reschedule it at all?"

"Ugh, no," Sid says. "I looked a few weeks ago, out of curiosity. They do the scheduling on a separate system and it's audited for accuracy hourly. Even if I figured out how to spoof an account on the scheduling system, they'd find out right away."

"Shit," Hardison says. "I wish we could do this in person. One point of entry'd be a lot less noticeable than two, if we have to go poking around."

Sid sighs. "I know, but my stupid sister came home and is making me do laundry, of all things. Laundry is supposed to be her job."

Hardison takes a second to process that. "Wait, are you telling me you're calling me from a laundromat?"

"It's a secure connection!" Sid protests. "Nobody here cares, anyway."

"Look, why don't you come over later? We only have a couple days, but it's enough time for you to finish your laundry, at least."

"Can't. Vetra got us tickets to some performance thing, I said I'd go. She doesn't leave on her next supply run until tomorrow, and it's a long one, so I'm probably going with her."

"That's inconvenient," Hardison says. "How long is a long one?"

"Out to the Traverse and back. Three or four days. You'll probably be done with all this by the time I get back."

"Knock on wood," Hardison says. There hadn't been anything noticeably weird or unsecure about her connection before he knew she was in a laundromat; they've gone this far so they might as well forge ahead. "Okay, if I'm going to be doing this on my own, show me how to get into the admin layer again."

They go back and forth for a while, Sid showing Hardison what she'd mapped of the Initiative's vast, interconnected information systems, Hardison asking questions and offering suggestions for improvement at intervals. She's a good hacker, a bit heavy-handed at times, but cognizant of the various security systems she's working around, and quick to tailor her approach to the risk. Hardison's never been tempted to set up shop as a teacher, but he can maybe start to see the appeal of mentoring someone. Taking all that raw talent and giving her whatever framework she needs to build even higher.

"What did you say you and your sister are doing after this whole operation packs up and leaves for Andromeda?" Hardison asks, while they pause to let a data core cycle.

"Oh, we're on the Initiative. I didn't say? Vetra took this as a temp job and got all enamored with the idea of seeing a new galaxy about as soon as we figured out what they were building here. It's going to be amazing. Did you know no one's ever seen the Milky Way from the outside before? In all our centuries of spaceflight, we never left our own galaxy." The excitement bleeding through her voice is contagious; Hardison finds himself grinning along. "Anyway, that's why I started hacking into their colonist inventory systems. Wanted to see exactly when we'd be going under — did you know they only give you forty-eight hours notice officially? So I found out that Kesh put us in one of the last groups to go under and first to wake up. Apparently we're 'Essential Personnel.'"

"Congratulations, it sounds prestigious," Hardison says.

Sid beams. "Thanks! I'm going to be a communications officer on the Nexus. Can you imagine? My degree's not done yet, but it's mostly an entrance test to get the position. I aced it."

"Look at you, all official and above-board," Hardison says. He puts his hand over his heart. "Don't start looking down on us lowly grifters and thieves, now."

"Never," Sid says.

It's weird, that he should get a pang at the thought of this girl leaving the galaxy in a few weeks. He's known her by reputation since only yesterday, and the first time they talked was this morning. They still haven't technically met in face to face yet.

This is a bad place to work, if he's going to start getting sentimental over strangers. Everyone on this station is leaving soon.

After about half an hour, during which Sid pauses their call once to put in a new load of laundry, they've done all they can in the colonist inventory systems. It's not possible to reschedule the scientists' group, and it's not possible to move them to a later group, either.

"Alright, we can't buy ourselves any more time," Hardison says. "Better make the most of the time we have. What info can we get on them? Where they're staying, what they've bought, anything."

"Hmm," Sid says, and Hardison makes a similar sound. They both go off on their own searches for a few minutes, before Hardison breaks the silence.

"Holy shit, I think I found the mother lode," he exclaims. "Here's a receipt showing Maria Acker rented a bench in a communal lab under her own name. I'm forwarding it now; can you do anything with it?"

Sid scans the receipt as it comes through. "Yeah. Oh, Agility Corp, they're the worst. Their booking software is about forty years old, a baby could hack into it. I can tell you the exact location of the Ackers' lab and all the times they've swiped in or out in just a sec. But that's all they have online."

"Huh," Hardison says. He pulls up the corp's booking system in a few keystrokes and verifies that Sid's opinion checks out.

"Yeah," Sid says. "I don't know if they're extremely cautious and keep the rest of their system walled off on purpose, or if they're so old they never networked it in the first place."

"Maybe they keep all their other records on paper," Hardison says.

Sid rolls her eyes. "Oh please, nobody uses paper."

"I feel obligated to point out that while you guys were busy flying around the galaxy for a million years or whatever, humans were exclusively conducting all business on paper until about two hundred years ago."

"Wow, that's...I have no words for your whole civilization."

Hardison laughs so hard that he has to duck out of the range of the camera to find a tissue. When he's done mopping his eyes he rolls his chair back into the frame. "Sorry, kid. Trolling people with the history of humanity never gets old."

Sid looks at him skeptically. "So you didn't do everything on paper two hundred years ago?"

"Oh, no, that's real. We didn't get a reputation as the babies of the galaxy for nothing."

"No words," she repeats. "Anyway, if they aren't networked, how do we get anything on the Ackers? From a normal lab you'd expect research data, notes, surveillance footage, everything. Here we just have entry and exit times."

Hardison grins. "We take a trip down there and get it the old fashioned way."

-

"Thanks again for letting me use your nano trackers, Kasumi," Tali says as they round a corner.

"Always happy to help a friend," Kasumi says. "Anytime you want to tell me what you needed them for, though, or what we're doing here, that would be great."

"We're tracking," Jack says, and Kasumi laughs.

A bit further on, the wide hall opens up and there are some vendors and a small public seating area around the tram stop. It looks like as good a place to be inconspicuous as they're likely to find.

"They're getting close. We should wait here so we don't overshoot them."

"Oh, this is killing me. Who are 'they'?"

Kasumi sounds like she's having too much fun guessing, so Tali doesn't answer. Instead, she sits on a bench and pulls out a soft cloth and wipes at a smudge on her faceplate. How it got there is unknown; there shouldn't be any kind of dripping goop on a station as new as this.

"No, seriously, tell me what we're doing or I might die of anticipation," Kasumi pleads. "Who are we tracking?"

Tali puts away her cloth. "They call themselves Leverage, Incorporated."

"The crew Miranda hired to cover up her personal Cerberus mess," Jack elaborates.

"And you're tracking them...why?"

Jack looks smug. "So we can take down Cerberus."

"Exactly," Tali agrees.

"Oh, this sounds fascinating. Count me in on your secret plans and please give me all the details."

"Give you the details so you can help, or just write a sad poem about it?" Jack asks.

Kasumi narrows her eyes. "Have you been going through my things?"

"Hell no. You seemed like the poetry-writing type, is all."

Kasumi doesn't deign to answer that, so they sit in a somewhat awkward silence until she says, "No, okay, I want to help."

Tali sketches out the bones of the situation with Jack interjecting when she thinks Tali's being too easy on everyone, and Kasumi makes encouraging noises until they finish.

Kasumi hums appreciatively. "This is a very exciting plan. What again are you getting out of this?"

They both turn to stare at her in unison. Tali speaks first. "We get no more Cerberus. No one else torturing kids? Or fusing them with an AI?"

Kasumi clicks her tongue. "Ugh, selfless altruism."

"Wait, they're moving again," Tali says, consulting her omni-tool. "Going northwest, it looks like they're on the tram. If we're lucky, they're getting off at this stop."

They aren't lucky. The signal from the tracker goes right through their station without stopping and they have to scramble through the twisting space station corridors to catch up, Jack pulling up the tram schedule on her omni-tool to see where the next express stop is while Tali keeps an eye on the tracker signal. Through some miracle of shortcuts and the fact that the Leverage team weren't riding to the end of the line, they manage to catch up without getting on the tram themselves.

When they finally make visual contact, they're in a poorly ventilated, foul-smelling office area. Not the official offices of the Initiative itself, but all the ancillary businesses that spring up around such a massive project. The odor permeates faintly through the filters in Tali's enviro-suit, which means it must be pretty strong outside.

Kasumi turns on her cloaking and flickers out of existence as they get closer to the target. They tail the crew for a few turns, and the area shades from offices to industrial. That explains the smell, at least.

They catch up with the Leverage crew in a dead end down a series of increasingly small, twisty side corridors. The trio is crouched around an air vent in the floor, conferring quietly among themselves. Jack and Tali flatten themselves against a wall while Kasumi silently rounds the corner, visible only as a faint shimmer in the air.

There's the sound of a scuffle, and Tali hazards a quick glance around the corner.

In the dead end, Eliot appears to dodge several invisible punches before putting an empty space into an efficient headlock. "Who are you, and why can't I see you?"

So much for stealth. Tali comes out with her hands up, and Jack follows. "She's with us."

Kasumi blinks back into the visible spectrum, looking ruffled and mildly annoyed. Cautiously, Eliot lets go of her and steps back.

"You — I remember you from the meeting," Hardison says. He narrows his eyes at Jack. "And you owe me for a door and part of wall."

"And don't forget all the custom security you installed in there, ripping it all out and reinstalling it somewhere else won't be free," Parker adds, getting up to join them.

Jack shrugs. "Whatever. Send me a bill."

Parker and Hardison glance at each other, and at Eliot. "That's not, like. A standard document we just have lying around," Hardison says.

Jack puffs out her chest. "What do you want me to do, say I'm sorry? I'm not sorry. Send a bill to Shepard, actually, it was her fault."

"We'll figure this out later," Eliot says. "What are you doing here?"

"Tracking you down, obviously," Kasumi says. "What're you all doing here?"

"Breaking into the lab underneath us. The Ackers rented space there. We're looking for anything we can use to take them down."

"Impressive, that was fast," Tali says. They'd just met this morning. "Can we help?"

Parker gives them an appraising look. "We don't usually go looking for outside help. What's your stake in this?"

"Keeping Miranda honest."

Jack rolls her eyes. "You don't need to get all diplomatic about it, Tali. We're here because this might be our best shot at taking down Cerberus."

"I'm here because they said it might be interesting," Kasumi offers.

Parker gives them another once-over, and appears to make up her mind. "Okay. Can any of you belay down thirty feet on a rope without a harness? Could use some backup down there."

Kasumi agrees to accompany Parker. They've only been gone for a few minutes before Parker's head reappears over the edge of the grate. "Could you come down here and take a look at something, Alec? Can't get into the server room or the labs at all, they've all got two-factor auth on the locks. Need you to break it."

Hardison grins. "It would be my pleasure."

This time, they're gone for much longer.

"How'd you three end up working together?" Tali asks, when it becomes obvious that Jack and Eliot are perfectly content to stare at opposite walls without talking, indefinitely.

"Huh," Eliot huffs, and Tali thinks that's all she's going to get. At length he says, "We worked on the same job once, back on earth. It turned into a regular gig. Then the boss said he was getting too old to run cons, left. We got married, kept working together." He spreads his hands, as if to indicate a logical progression of events up to the current moment.

"Earth got boring and you joined the Initiative?" Tali guesses.

"Nah, we're just passing through. We started taking more jobs offworld after Nate; we basically live out of our ship between gigs now. It's a big galaxy. Lots of shit to fix."

Jack's looking at Eliot hungrily. "If you like traveling the galaxy and fixing shit, you should help us take down Cerberus."

Hardison chooses this moment to climb out of the vent, followed by Parker and Kasumi.

"You'd better not be trying to recruit my partner, lady."

"I'll recruit all of you. The more, the merrier."

"Taking down the big bad guys head on isn't really our style," Eliot says. "We specialize in this kind of thing — helping the little guy."

Parker makes a face. "And helping this little guy just got a lot harder. Hardison?"

"There's good news and bad news. They used the same locks on the server room and the labs, which is stupid. But on the other hand, the locks are unbreakable. They need a code and a physical token to unlock. I can crack the code, but I can't mimic the token. It's nothing I've ever seen before."

"We'll have to steal a token," Kasumi adds. She sounds positively gleeful.

"There's no other way in? What about the air vents?"

Parker straightens up from lowering the grate back over the vent they'd just used. "Closed system," she says. "Very thin pipes, nowhere near big enough to crawl through."

"Sounds like we're stealing a token," Tali says.

Jack crosses her arms. "Any idea who might have one?"

"No, but I can find out pretty quick." Hardison pulls up his omni-tool and starts typing.

The six of them stand around in a loose circle for a minute without saying anything, and it occurs to Tali that the Leverage crew might be expecting them to leave. Too bad, because as long as Tali and Jack have any say in this, they're all working together.

After another minute where everyone does little more than watch Hardison type, he purses his lips and says, "Okay, I might have found us a token that won't be missed. The big boss has one and he's going to be here tomorrow. The catch is, only for a couple of hours. He's flying in for some big gala and leaving as soon as it's over."

"That can't be the only token," Tali says, incredulous. "The local workers have to have a copy to get in and out of their own labs, don't they?"

Hardison nods. "It looks like the manager holds a copy on her person outside of business hours, but the security up where she lives is ridiculous. That can be Plan B, but we have a better shot at this ball."

The group falls silent again, digesting the information.

Eliot breaks the silence. "Well. While we figure this out, anyone want to go out for beers? I know a great place up on the fifth level."

-

The hall where the ball is being held is preposterously large, with a high arching ceiling and wide windows out to the vastness of space on all sides. One side of the room looks out on the moons of the unnamed gas giant that the station orbits; the one opposite shows the skeleton of the Nexus, nearly ready to be launched into the next galaxy. Such a cavernous ballroom is an extravagant waste of space on a station that's been purpose built for this one project — apartments and offices and workshops all crammed together to make the most efficient use of materials that will be abandoned after the Initiative took off.

Peebee waits until Kalinda's attention is entirely absorbed with the turian diplomat she's talking to, and surreptitiously tugs her gown back into place. It's been slowly twisting around her thighs all evening. She cannot wait until pencil skirts go back out of style. They've been the height of fashion for a good forty years, which is barely a passing fad by asari standards. By the time they get to Andromeda, the Matriarchs and their retinues had better have decided that some other garment signals refinement — nice full skirts like the ones in Peebee's mother's photos from the 1980s, say. Even a slightly fuller skirt would be an improvement. Or better yet, Peebee could just stop getting invited to functions requiring evening wear.

Kalinda's conversation with her diplomat winds down and they gracefully part ways. Kalinda tugs sharply at Peebee's elbow and hisses into her ear. "Pelessaria! I did not bring you here to act like a child. Please display some dignity when we're speaking with one of the most influential military minds in the galaxy."

"What, you'd have preferred I fall on my face because I didn't fix my dress?"

Kalinda gives her a tight-lipped shake of the head, one that means we're talking about this later. A second later they glide into the orbit of an older asari Peebee doesn't recognize, wearing a headdress so large and top-heavy that no small measure of mass effect field manipulation had to be involved.

The older woman dips her head in greeting, and Kalinda's face melts into an open, ingratiating smile. They're supposed to be mingling, which at most parties seems to mean Kalinda gets to talk to all the richest and most influential people there, and Peebee gets to meet all of Kalinda's society connections without saying much of anything. So far this one hasn't been any different. Peebee has the vague idea that it's supposed to benefit her in some way, and the stronger idea that the slightest misstep on her part could ruin everything for Kalinda somehow.

"....And this is my companion, Pelessaria B'Sayle," Kalinda's saying. "This is her first grand ball."

Apparently the last three balls this month weren't grand, then. Peebee shakes the heavily jeweled hand that's offered. "Good to meet you."

The older woman gazes imperiously down her nose. "Do tell - this is your first ball? How are you finding society?"

"Yes, it is. Actually, I was raised by pyjaks," Peebee deadpans. "Never seen society before in my life. It's amazing what a group of sentients can build when they get together."

The woman's dour expression lifts fractionally and she taps Peebee's hand with her fan. "You've met your match, Kalinda. This one has a sharp tongue on her."

When they part ways, Kalinda all but drags Peebee over to a table of refreshments. "Stay over here until I come back for you," she says, exasperated. "I'm going to talk to the head of the Initiative and I can't handle any more embarrassments."

Peebee stares at her. "Are you putting me in time out?"

"If you wouldn't act like a child, I wouldn't have to treat you like one."

"Is this about the 'raised by pyjaks' joke? She thought that was funny!"

"She was the high priestess of the Order of the Glass Cloud, which you would know if you paid attention."

Peebee crosses her arms. "Fine. If I'm an embarrassment to be around, I'll stay out of your way."

Kalinda gives her a quelling look and sweeps off elegantly to go kiss up to Jien Garson, or whoever.

Peebee turns to the refreshments table. If she's been abandoned here, she can at least make the most of it. She's loading up her plate with tiny pickled eggs and slices of some kind of herbed paté when a pale human woman with a simple blonde updo, smokey eye makeup, and a tuxedo Peebee is instantly jealous of, bumps her elbow.

"Don't take the paté," she says in a conspiratorial undertone. "My boyfriend's a chef, and he says it's gone off. I'd trust him."

Peebee looks over to where the woman was indicating and sees a human man of a similar height and skin tone, also in a tux, talking to a group of partygoers. He glances over as if he feels their eyes on him and smiles.

"Thanks," Peebee says. She puts the paté back and takes some triangular dumplings on skewers. "Are these okay?"

"Oh, those are delicious," the woman says. She sticks out her hand and Peebee moves her plate to her other hand and shakes it. "I'm Abbie."

"Pel — Peebee," Peebee corrects. It's weird. Now that she thinks of it, she hasn't actually introduced herself to anyone in weeks. Kalinda keeps doing it for her.

Abbie smiles. "Wanna go sit down? I could use a break."

Peebee eyes the nearest couch, in an alcove surrounded by giant-leaved potted plants for privacy. It's not too far away from the refreshment table. She could make a pretty convincing case that she was staying put. "Sure," she says.

"I don't know anyone here," Abbie says, when they sit down. "I suppose there will be plenty of time once we get to Andromeda, but it's a bit intimidating."

"Me either," Peebee admits. She bites into one of the dumplings. It is, as promised, amazing.

"Who was that woman who was yelling at you?"

Peebee winces. So much for no one seeing that. "Kalinda, my girlfriend. She wasn't yelling yelling, she just gets...uptight at these things. Thinks she needs to impress everyone."

"You'd think she'd stay away if she didn't like it." Abbie wrinkles her nose. "What's she do for work — professional socialite?"

"Something like that." Peebee thinks. "I'm not a hundred percent sure, actually. She's an aristocrat, so she doesn't work like a normal person. I think her family sponsors a few endowments for the arts and she 'manages' them by earning a lot of money and hobnobbing with high society."

Abbie leans in, interested. "Sounds exhausting. Does she own any companies, or is her family strictly arts-only?"

"What, companies like...business? Investment? I don't know, honestly, she's never talked about it. I always assumed she had a well of infinite money somewhere." Peebee eats one of the eggs. It's excellent, as well. It doesn't quite make up for all the dressing up and the boredom and the talking to people, but if these kind of parties have one redeeming feature, they're usually well catered.

Abbie turns in her seat and gives Peebee an assessing look, then tilts her head as if she's listening to something far off. "Okay," she says after a minute. "I'm going to be level with you, because we don't have a long time. My name isn't Abbie, it's Parker; I'm here undercover with my crew." She nods over at her boyfriend, who gives another innocuous smile.

"Whoa," Peebee says. "Talk about coming out of left field."

"This wasn't quite plan A," Abbie — no, Parker — says. "We're trying to uncover some...I guess 'evil scientists' is the short version. To do that, we need the access token to the rental labs that Agility Corp runs on this station. A company called Y-Tech owns Agility Corp. The president of Y-Tech holds a master token, and he's here tonight. Your girlfriend owns the holding company that owns Y-Tech and a dozen others."

She pauses here, expectant, and Peebee nods her understanding, eager for more. It feels like the ball just went from muted undertones to full color, from bland elevator music to a thumping club beat. "So, what next? You steal the key?"

Parker lowers her voice. "That's where you come in. Can you get Kalinda to introduce me to the Y-Tech president? We've got someone in his shuttle now, going through his things, but she hasn't found the token yet. More than likely, he keeps it on his person."

"Oh! Yeah, I can do that." Peebee grins. "Espionage. Sounds like fun." She glances around the room, but Kalinda is nowhere to be seen among the well-dressed crowd. "The thing is, I'm supposed to stay here until Kalinda comes back for me. And I have no idea who this guy is."

A concerned line appears between Parker's eyebrows. "Is she controlling like this all the time? I mean, if you help us, are you going to be okay?

Peebee blinks at her, confused. "Of course I'd be okay, what the hell."

Parker opens her mouth to say something, then pauses as if she's listening to something. She doesn't look convinced.

"Look, the most she'd do is throw a hissy fit if she thought I was being rude or disrespecting her or whatever, and I'd roll my eyes a lot and pick a fight, and then we'd have awesome makeup sex. Which I don't even think is too much information, considering you asked for it."

Parker shrugs. "Okay, you'd know better than me. I've seen people be shitty to their partners in all kinds of ways; in my experience it's better to check."

"She's not a shitty partner, she's just stressed out a lot with the Initiative and everything." Peebee frowns.

"All right," Parker says, sounding entirely unconvinced, but she changes the subject. "Don't worry about recognizing the guy. We've got someone for that." She hands Peebee a tiny earbud, and when Peebee puts it in, a warm voice crackles to life.

"Peebee! I'm Hardison. We've got eyes and ears on the place, thanks to Parker —" Parker winks, and Peebee catches a glint of what might be a lens in her eye. "So I'll let you know when you're getting close to our guy. Parker's the best pickpocket there is, so all you've got to do is give her an excuse to get close to him and keep him talking for a minute. Piece of cake."

"Can he hear me?" Peebee asks Parker.

"Loud and clear," says Hardison. "Two-way earpiece, my own design. Probably best not to talk to me too much so you don't raise suspicion, though."

"Okay." Peebee firmly compartmentalizes their weird conversation and grins at Parker. This is going to be exciting.

"Eliot's going to be keeping an eye on us in case we need anyone punched. It shouldn't come to that, though."

Peebee gathers that Eliot's the chef boyfriend. She nods. "Okay. I guess we wait here for Kalinda to come back, and then engage Operation Purposeful Mingling."

It takes Kalinda about half an hour to circle back and pick Peebee up. Peebee chats with Parker and Hardison while they wait, trading jokes and stories from traveling around the galaxy and inventing a more detailed backstory for Parker. It's easy in exactly the way that making stilted small talk with Kalinda's friends is not. The whole time, Eliot unobtrusively circles them, moving easily from one group of partygoers to the next.

"Incoming girlfriend at four o'clock," Hardison announces over the com. Peebee sits up straighter and brushes her lap for invisible crumbs.

Kalinda sweeps up in a rustle of silk and glances around the alcove as if preparing to inspect it for contraband. "Pelessaria. I see you've made a friend."

"I did." Peebee stands, and Parker follows her lead. "Kalinda, this is Abigail Kowalski, heiress to the Kowalski family shipping industries back on Earth. Abbie, Kalinda T'Reve. Abbie's been telling me all about her latest project to bring interpretive dance to disadvantaged youth on Omega. It's fascinating, really."

Parker extends her hand. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance. Peebee was telling me you founded a kind of monastery for poets on Thessia? It's always so invigorating to meet another philanthropist."

Kalinda sniffs. "It's hardly philanthropy. The poets come from the best families, of course. My organization merely grants them a place to set aside the cares of daily life and focus on their art."

Parker takes Kalinda's arm and guides her expertly out into the crowd, asking leading questions the whole time. The three of them make their way across the room, appearing to weave through the crowd and greet people at random, but always making their way toward the Y-Tech president, thanks to Hardison's voice in their ears. Peebee introduces Parker to a couple of Kalinda's friends that they pass on the way, to throw her off the trail. Mingling turns out to be much more fun when there's a point to it.

Halfway across the ballroom, and just as the live band is warming up to transition to the dancing part of the evening, Hardison intones, "Target at ten o'clock. Turian, green facial markings, pink robe with a hood."

Peebee scans the faces ahead and catches sight of their target. "Oh, I see," she interjects at an opportune pause in the conversation. Hardison laughs.

Parker must have identified him too, because she unobtrusively steers them until their group is on a collision course with the target. Peebee's dress is twisted halfway around her legs by now — of course when she doesn't try to fix it, Kalinda notices nothing — so it's the easiest thing in the world to sidestep, trip, and let herself fall right in front of him.

"Oh, my," he exclaims, and catches her by the elbow. He helps her back up and Peebee makes a big show of gripping his arm and staring up into his face. His robes have about a million panels and drapey parts; he could be hiding a dozen tokens in there without even trying. Parker had better be as good at picking pockets as she says she is.

Peebee keeps her grip on his arm even after she fully regains her balance. "Why, am I ever lucky you were there, sir. I don't know what came over me."

Kalinda takes Peebee's other arm and says, "Excuse me, my companion appears to have had too much to drink."

Peebee does an exaggerated double take. If she's supposed to be drunk, now, she might as well play it up. "Hey, don't I know you? I must have — Oh! You were on a video conference with Kalinda the other day, weren't you? Kalinda, you have to introduce us. I owe him a drink, at least."

Kalinda does the obligatory round of introductions. Peebee watches when Parker shakes his hand, but she doesn't see anything out of the ordinary. The man is about as obnoxious as you could expect the CEO of a tech corporation to be, but Peebee manages to force small talk for a few minutes. Thankfully, they move away when the band starts playing. The crowd quickly separates itself into couples dancing in the middle of the room, and small knots of people talking around the edges.

Much to Peebee's regret, Kalinda excuses them both from Parker's company, and sweeps Peebee out into the middle of the dance floor. So much for the adventurous part of the evening, then.

Predictably, given how Peebee's been acting, Kalinda uses the pretext of the dance to enumerate a long list of things an intelligent person would never, ever do at a ball in a hissed whisper. Allowing oneself to get tangled in one's own garments and embarrass one's companion in front of a respected business associate features strongly. Peebee's wondering how soon she can escape and get drunk for real when Parker cuts in.

"Didn't want to leave you hanging there without a mission debrief," Parker says, leaning close so no one can hear them.

Peebee looks over her shoulder and sees Eliot dancing Kalinda away in the opposite direction. She stifles a laugh at the incongruous picture they make together. "Did you get the token?"

"Sure did," Parker says, gleeful. She does a complicated dance move that involves spinning Peebee in a tiny circle while Parker sketches a much larger circle around her.

Peebee laughs. "Careful, I might fall for real."

"All right, only slow steps from now on," Parker agrees. "We're going to break into the lab tonight. Thanks again for all your help."

Peebee scoffs. "You could have done it just as easily without me."

"Maybe. We didn't have to find out, though."

Parker holds out her hand. "I'm going to need that earbud back, unfortunately."

"Oh! Forgot it was there." Peebee pops the earbud out and deposits it into Parker's palm.

"Hey, you should look me up sometime. We're staying here until the Initiative takes off, at least. I'll give you our address."

Peebee feels the ping of a received message from her com link. She has the strongest urge to shove her hands in her pockets and shuffle around, but of course ball gowns have no pockets. "Um, thanks? I'll be happy to help if you have any more heists to pull off."

"Always," Parker says.

Peebee notices that Parker's danced them right to the edge of the room, closest to the entrance.

"Gotta go liberate some evidence now," Parker says, letting go of Peebee's hands.

"Good luck!" Peebee calls. Parker grins and disappears into the crowd.

Peebee grabs a flute of champagne off of a nearby table and sips at it. It's far too sweet to drink quickly, sadly. She's on her second glass when she realizes that whether or not Kalinda catches up to her and continues to be disappointed by her behavior in public, the fight and make-up sex are pretty much inevitable at this point.

There's no reason Peebee has to spend the rest of her evening in stifling boredom, in a dress she can't properly walk in. She puts down her glass, scans the nearby crowd for incoming girlfriends (none), and makes her way out the door.

-

Eliot leans over Hardison's shoulder as Hardison inserts the token into the lock. Hardison reaches around and gently pushes Eliot back. "Get out of the line of sight, babe. You're making more surveillance tape for me to erase later."

Eliot crouches down next to him instead, watching the lock. A light slowly ticks around the outer circumference, processing. Hardison inputs the code when prompted, and the door swings open. "That simple, huh?"

Hardison grins. "That simple."

Eliot takes position by the door of the server room, gun drawn, while the other two go to work inside. It's a small room, barely more than a closet, and it seems ridiculous that it took them this much effort to gain entry.

"Remind me why we had to go to the billionaires' ball, or whatever that was? I could have drilled through this wall in ten minutes."

"You could have, and then they'd have known someone was here, and our scientists could have run away," Parker says. "This way, nobody has to know we were here until the scientists go to jail. Maybe never, if they don't watch the news."

"Well, infiltrating balls is something I imagined we'd do a bit less, this deep in the Terminus systems." He unbuttons his cuffs and shakes out the sleeves. Ah, sweet range of motion. How he's missed it.

"This security system is stupid," Hardison says. "But it's the reason infiltrating that ball worked at all. The parent company has these nigh-unbreakable two-factor locks installed in all their locations, and then what do they do? Have a master auth token made up for their president. We could go on a spree with this thing, raid any Y-Tech owned company we want."

"Hmm, sounds like a plan," Parker says. "Almost done on your side? I've copied down all the files I could find from their lab group over here."

"Yeah, just about," Hardison says. "Want to hit the labs after this, see if they left anything incriminating lying around?"

"You know it," Parker says.

Eliot accepts the portable storage drives Parker and Hardison hand him on their way out, and zips them into his chest holster for safekeeping. This job has been a nonviolent walk in the park so far, but that's no reason to get lax on security. The rental labs are a twin row of doors on either side of a long hallway, like self-storage units or cheap apartments. Hardison leads them to the lab that the Ackers rented, and crouches down to start running the code breaker.

Parker catches Eliot's eye. "I bet I could beat you to the end of the hall."

Eliot raises an eyebrow. "The catch being...?"

"In handsprings." Parker grins.

The same way that big glitzy undercover events drain Eliot's reserves, so that he feels like he needs to stand in a quiet room and do something with his hands for a couple hours to recharge — make bread, or disassemble a pile of guns — they seem to key Parker up, now that she has the knack for them. On their last job, they'd had to act as guests at an upscale function, then make their getaway by hang gliding down a canyon. Parker had been over the moon. Eliot's starting to think maybe they should engineer that kind of release valve into all their missions from now on.

"Nobody could beat you in a handspring race," Eliot says. "I'll race you, but I'm just letting you know now how it'll end."

"Surveillance footage!" Hardison warns. He stands up. "Anyway, we're in now."

Eliot goes in first and sweeps the lab. It's small and sparsely outfitted. There's one lab bench in the center, a first aid station by the door, and a row of storage lockers against the back wall. Along the side, there's a makeshift framework holding several rows of small animal cages, which explains the musky scent that rolled out into the hall when they opened the door. "Clear," Eliot says, and Parker and Hardison file in.

Hardison waves his hand in front of his nose. "Oh, that is not pleasant."

Parker gets to work decrypting the storage lockers while Hardison applies himself to the room's single terminal.

"Nothing on here we didn't get back in the server room," he says after a few seconds, and goes to join Eliot over by the animal cages. He pulls the collar of his t-shirt up over his nose. "I don't know how you're breathing in here, dude."

"It's not so bad. Look, they've got treats." Eliot holds a treat up to the bars of the nearest cage, and the animal shuffles over and takes it, holding the piece of food in its weird little webbed paws to eat it.

"I guess that's kind of cute," Hardison admits.

Only about half the animals seem interested in food. The rest are either catatonic or scrabble urgently at the floor of their cage, which Eliot supposes is the result of whatever cruel mind control they're here to end.

"Jackpot!" Parker exclaims from behind them. Eliot leans out the door and does a check up and down the hallway, verifies there's still no one coming, and goes to join her and Hardison. She's spread out her find on the lab bench in front of them. "This matches those schematic we downloaded, doesn't it?"

"It looks like it just might."

All Eliot can see is a bunch of parts. Some of them look vaguely like they belong in an energy weapon, but the configuration's wrong. "What is it?"

Parker looks positively triumphant. "The mind control device itself."

"Looks like a scaled down version, I'd bet it's what they were using on the lab animals. This is definitely illegal to have," Hardison says. "If having the plans wasn't bad enough for someone to arrest them, this should be the nail in the coffin."

"Great. Can we take it?"

They end up having to break into two other labs to find a suitable case to carry the disassembled parts in. Eliot leaves a small stack of credit chips in its place. Clumsy, but untraceable. Whoever was using this lab should be able to find somewhere that accepts them.

Eliot jumps at shadows the whole time while Hardison wipes the surveillance footage that they showed up in. It's been too long without anyone trying to stop them. He keeps himself primed for a fight the entire time they're sneaking back through the reception area and up the air duct, but no one challenges them.

He finally relaxes once they get back on the tram toward their apartment. "I could use a cold beer and some food bigger than my thumb, right about now."

Parker flops down next to him and leans her head on his shoulder. "I could use some calisthenics and a long shower."

Eliot eyes her. "Do you mean calisthenics, or 'calisthenics'?"

"Oh, definitely sparring, not sex. That ball was so much concentrating on people; I need to fight something."

Eliot glances around, but none of the other passengers on the tram seem to be listening.

"I can't believe either of you," Hardison says. "All I need right now is to sleep for as long as humanly possible."

Parker must raise an eyebrow at him, because he says, "What? It's late! You two can cook or fight or whatever all night, I'm going to bed."

Their apartment on the station is one of the smaller places they've lived in, mostly one space-saving rectangle of open floor plan, but they manage to go their separate ways when they need to. Hardison kisses them both goodnight and retires to the bedroom, the only closed-off room in the place aside from the bathroom, and barely large enough for a king size bed and one dresser. Parker hooks up some ropes to a bracket in the ceiling on the living room side of the main room and starts going through a series of simple trapeze moves, getting gradually more complex as she warms up.

Eliot makes himself a sandwich and a beer on the side of the room with a few feet of countertop and basic appliances that serves as a kitchen, and then, feeling a bit more on an even keel, pokes around the cabinets ideas. In the end, he settles on mixing up a batch of dough for cinnamon buns. Parker talks him into sparring while the dough rises, so they roll out the mat and go a few rounds in hand-to-hand, keeping it quiet so they don't wake Alec up. Eliot feels himself slide into a meditative state rolling out the dough, shaping and filling the buns. When they're ready, he slides the pan into the fridge instead of the oven. He'll bake them in the morning and they can have fresh buns for breakfast.

-

It's possible that Sid showed up at the rendezvous point a little early. A lot early, even. Excitement and patience never did mix well for her. For the fourth time, Sid checks Hardison's message from earlier that morning. It still definitely says the name of the hotel restaurant that she's in, with a meeting time of 1300 hours.

At 12:55, Eliot, Parker, and Hardison walk in. Hardison's eyes light up when he sees Sid, and he crosses over to her table to give her a one-armed hug. "You made it! I thought you'd be halfway through the Traverse with your sister by now."

Sid bounces to her feet. "I told her I was studying for my entrance exam and helping on a supply run would be too much of a distraction, and she said she guesses I'm responsible enough to take care of myself for a few days. And then she gave me a whole list of stuff that I have to promise to stay away from."

"Well, congratulations on your independence. Hope you're not breaking too many rules by being here."

"Oh, I plan to break all of them. What Vetra doesn't know can't hurt her."

At the bar, Eliot gets a key from the bartender and leads them all into a back room with a U-shaped banquet table and some empty catering dishes on a sideboard.

"Nice conference room, Eliot," Parker says.

"It was the best I could do on short notice."

Within a few minutes, the others start filing in. Sid dithers over which seat to take, but Hardison pulls out the one next to him. Miranda seems to have brought her whole crew again, though Sid can't tell if it's the exact same people as last time, since Parker had her webcam facing forward through most of the first meeting.

Once everyone's assembled, Parker gives them a quick rundown of the mission status: bad guys located, lab raided, research stolen.

"We haven't finished yet, but we took some time this morning to start going through the research data and notes we downloaded from the lab," Hardison says. "It looks like they kept their research data from their experiments on Cerberus, and were building on it and refining it here. Using lab animals, luckily. Looks like they didn't want to tarnish their chances of making it into the Initiative by using sentient subjects again."

Miranda sits back in her chair, looking relieved. "That's excellent news. Cerberus destroyed their earlier research data when they were let go. Together with their more recent work, this should be more than enough to convict them of a bioethics breach."

Jack, the heavily tattooed biotic who'd destroyed their previous conference room — Sid had been facing the rest of the room for that much, luckily — abruptly squeezes her water glass until it breaks. "Wait, you're telling me you didn't even know if there'd be evidence to convict them? Because you destroyed their data?"

"We destroyed their data so they'd have a hard time continuing their work elsewhere," Miranda says evenly. "It is against Cerberus policy to keep a private copy of any intellectual property generated on company time. Obviously, they went against policy."

"All right, well, regardless of all that, we have their research now," Hardison says. "We also stole the device they were using the brainwash the lab animals."

Parker nods at him and addresses the group. "The question now is what we do with the evidence. With their cryo date coming up, the Ackers are strongly incentivized not to leave the station, but they are technically still at large. Our next step should be to apprehend them and hold them until the appropriate authorities can be notified."

Inspiration hits Sid like a thunderbolt. "You don't have to do that," she cuts in. "I can notify the authorities right now."

Everyone around the table turns to look at her.

"My sister's boss is the chief of engineering on the Nexus. Her bosses report straight to Garson herself. I can call Kesh up, impersonate Vetra, and bam, you've got a direct line to the Initiative administration."

"Kesh the chief engineer, as in Nakmor Kesh?" Hardison asks.

"Yeah," Sid says. "Why, is there an issue?"

Hardison shakes his head. "Nothing like that. We've worked with her grandfather; he'd be...let's say, personally validated to hear she'd been involved in any kind of secret plot."

Parker and Eliot share an amused glance. "All his dreams come true," Eliot agrees.

"Oh," Sid says. Vetra comes home with funny work stories sometimes, but none of them have been about her boss's grandfather. Sid will have to ask.

Eliot squints at her. "How much do you sound like your sister?"

Sid crosses her arms. "Close enough."

"Close enough to fool her boss, who presumably talks to her on the phone or in person on a regular basis?"

"Maybe not," Sid admits.

"Hey, it's not a half bad idea, we're just making sure it would work," Hardison says. "Can you hack into your sister's email and contact Kesh that way?"

Sid feels a rush of embarrassment. Of course, why hadn't she thought of that. "I could hack Vetra's email in my sleep. Her password is 'Sidera,' but with a three instead of the 'e'."

"Wow, that is frighteningly bad password hygiene," Hardison says. He looks around the table. "Anyone else have any better ideas? Connections to local bioethics law enforcement you haven't thought to mention?"

The scientist from Miranda's crew speaks up. "No connections. Not on speaking terms with ethics boards. Specialty is genetics, not neuroscience. But will help analyze data, if needed."

"I'll forward you a copy," Hardison says.

No one else volunteers, so he turns back to Sid. "All right, do your thing."

With only very mildly shaking hands, Sid pulls up Vetra's email account on her omni-tool and takes a minute to hack in and disable the thing that will notify Vetra of a remote login. The less she suspects, the better. She logs in and composes a quick email, citing an anonymous source who saw something that bothered him and Vetra's desire to bring the disturbing news to light as quickly as possible. "Hey, do you have any evidence I can attach? I'm telling her to meet up with Vetra's anonymous contact to get the whole evidence package, but I need something catchy."

"There are those post-experiment 'interviews' with the victims that Miranda showed us last time," Shepard says.

"We can do better than that," Parker says. She types for a few moments and then turns to Sid.  
"Video from the first round of experiments on live victims. Even more disturbing than seeing the aftermath, if possible. I just forwarded it to you."

Sid attaches the clip and shudders. "There, sent. How can people do things like that to other people?"

Jack laughs bitterly. "People are the worst, kid. They'll do anything to anyone."

Miranda rolls her eyes. "Ah, there's the nihilism we all know and love."

"Says the woman who actively allied herself with the worst people out there," Jack snaps.

"All right, all right, keep it down to a dull roar," Shepard says. She turns to Hardison, pointedly ignoring the air that's practically crackling between Jack and Miranda. "What do we do now? Wait?"

"I gave Kesh a location of a dead drop from the 'anonymous source' if she wanted more evidence. So someone should probably set that up."

Eliot stands up. "I'll do it. Send me the navpoint and a copy of that email." He picks up the portable storage drives lying on the table. "You backed these up already, right?"

"Of course. Did it last night as soon as we got home."

"Take Jack with you," Shepard says. "In case you need any backup."

Jack and Eliot leave, and then there's nothing left to do but wait. Someone orders a few pots of tea and before long everyone's clustered around one end of the table, trading stories of places they've been. Tali tries to get them to brainstorm backup plans in case this one fails, but there's only so much detail they can get into without knowing whether the Initiative will take this seriously. The atmosphere in the room is a lot more relaxed without Jack and Miranda threatening to tear it apart, which, it occurs to Sid, was probably Shepard's goal all along.

Sid sets up a script that diverts all of Vetra's incoming email to her own account, so that Vetra won't be surprised by an unexpected reply from Kesh and ruin the whole thing. After that, she occupies herself with screening incoming emails and forwarding them along. Vetra's not kidding when she says she's busy; she gets a ridiculous amount of email for one person.

Jack and Eliot get back after about an hour.

"You couldn't have picked a drop point any closer?" Jack asks as soon as they're in the door.

"I was trying to keep her off our trail," Sid says.

Eliot pulls up a chair and sits down next to Parker. "What did we miss?"

"Mediocre hotel tea," Parker says. "Other than that, nothing."

Someone pulls out a pack of cards. Sid keeps checking the email.

After a while, Hardison looks up from his portable console. "Hey, someone turn on the news."

Jacob, sitting closest to the door, goes over to the room's modest control panel and fiddles with it until the station's main news feed comes in through the speakers overhead. They sit through a few announcements about the anticipated arrival time of the human ark and new funding pledges until Miranda interrupts.

"What are we supposed to be listening for, exactly?"

"That's weird," Hardison says. "I hacked into station security's main feed, just to keep an eye on things. About twenty minutes ago, they sent a patrol to the apartment block where our evil scientists are staying. Just now they reported two arrests. I was hoping it was related."

"If I ran the Andromeda Initiative and arrested two approved applicants on suspicion of bioethics violations, I'd want to keep it nice and quiet, too," Miranda says. "Wouldn't want to put it on the news and tarnish our reputation for future donors or applicants."

Tali leans forward. "Is there a warrant, or anything with names on it? She has a point, this could still be our guys."

"Nothing at this level. It looks like they add more details after the arrest is processed, going by the ones in here from earlier today. Let's give it a minute and see if anything comes up."

The atmosphere of bored relaxation in the room has evaporated. Everyone is tense, attention on Hardison. Sid gets an email and has to stifle a really undignified yelp, she's so keyed up. "Holy shit, it's from Kesh," she announces.

All eyes in the room swing to her as she reads the brief message aloud.

_Vetra -_

_Thanks for the intel. Pass our gratitude along to your source, if you can. We take the safety and wellbeing of our future colonists very seriously. I escalated the issue up the chain and just received word that Station Security brought the suspects into custody. They have been expelled from the program and will be turned over to the governing body at their last known address to face charges._

_Kesh_

"Wow, that was fast," Parker says. "Hardison, can you back that up?"

"One sec, looks like they're entering something now."

Sid's on the edge of her seat. All she's done today is take the lift to the commercial district and sit in a bland banquet room for a few hours, but it feels like she's been running a race.

"...And yes, here it is. Coby and Maria Acker, holding cell 4823 on level two, awaiting deportation to...oh, shit. Citadel space."

Across the table, Jack pumps her arm and whoops. "Fuck yes. Their last address was on the Citadel? They're going to spend a lifetime in jail for this."

Miranda raises one eyebrow. "That's it? Mission accomplished?"

Parker shrugs. "Unless you want to go down to their holding cell and personally confirm they're locked up, but you said you were trying to keep a low profile."

"No, you're quite right," Miranda agrees.

"I think this deserves a celebration," Hardison says, grinning.

-

The group decamps to a different bar once they find out that the hotel won't serve them krogan beer, and furthermore, doesn't even carry it. No one tells Sid to go home, so she follows along as they wander out of the blandly genteel area that caters to wealthy investors, and into a much louder district frequented by people working the docks or constructing the Nexus. They wind up in a seedy bar that serves six kinds of krogan beer, takes an extremely relaxed approach to checking patrons' ages, and comes with almost enough empty space to seat the entire group.

Before anyone can sit down, Miranda effortlessly lifts a cluster of empty tables a few inches into the air. "Hey, Jack, give me a hand?"

To the rest of the group's surprise, Jack shrugs and generates a few tightly-controlled mass effect fields that nudge the tables together before Miranda gently lowers them back to the floor with her own field. Sid can't tear her eyes away. Despite having lived a more adventurous life than average, she hasn't had the chance to see many real-life biotics in action before. Most of her exposure comes from Asari action movies, which are flashy and over the top as a rule.

"That was amazing," Sid says, as she sits down.

Jack makes a dismissive gesture. "That was nothing. I could blow up half this block if I wanted to."

"Yeah, but it wouldn't be useful like that was."

Jack looks at her askance. "Are you trying to moralize me, kiddo?"

Sid wishes everyone would stop calling her a kid. "It's just cool! I didn't know biotics could do stuff like that."

"What, little stuff? I'll show you little." She proceeds to show off by pulling salt shakers and forks from the other side of the table until the beer arrives. It's in much smaller glasses than Sid was expecting.

"This your first krogan beer?" Kasumi asks from Sid's other side.

"Yeah," Sid admits.

"Do you drink at all?"

"Some." There was an all-girls school, two jobs ago, where the residents of Sid's dorm would concoct variations on the theme of "punch" every weekend and get wasted. Since then, Sid hasn't had any real excuse to drink, but she doesn't not drink.

"All right, good. This'll dissolve your organs if you try to drink it like normal beer, so take it slow." Kasumi picks up Sid's cup and drains half of it in one gulp, then tops off the glass with water.

Sid stares at her. "What about your organs?"

Kasumi winks. "Oh, don't worry about me. I've built up a tolerance."

Sid gives her watered-down beer an experimental sip. The fumes make her eyes water and her nose burn, so maybe Kasumi wasn't wrong.

"Hey, you don't have to drink the hard stuff if you don't want to. We could get you a wine or a nice weak human beer just as easily."

"This must be the peer pressure Vetra warned me about," Sid jokes. Her second sip blazes a burning path all the way down. She's never been able to feel her insides before; it's a novel experience.

Kasumi clinks her glass against Sid's. "To building up a tolerance."

By the time the group at large is on their second round and Sid has carefully sipped down one quarter of her drink, the mood is decidedly more raucous.

"I can't believe it's over already," Tali exclaims from the other side of the table. "We barely got to do anything!"

"She's right," Kasumi says. "You sent me to steal something that wasn't even there."  
The sentiment is echoed up and down the table.

"There's not much for any one person to do when we're all working together," Sid points out. This spurs several rounds of toasts to teamwork and a job well done, and when Sid looks down, her glass is only half full. Oops.

"No, but seriously, what's next?" It's Tali again. Sid had kind of assumed Tali would just be observing from the sidelines instead of participating — she's never seen a quarian eat or drink anything, come to think of it — but Tali's sipping some kind of blue concoction through a straw and seems to be as far down the road to intoxication as anyone else here.

Jack leans forward with a gleam in her eye. "Yeah, Miranda, what other skeletons need cleaning out of your closet? Give us the dirt, we'll take 'em down."

To Sid's surprise, and evidently everyone else's, it's Jacob who speaks up. "I've got one, if you're serious. There was a station administrator, back when I joined. I never said anything, but I'm pretty sure the 'free clinic' she oversaw had ulterior motives for its non-human patients. It never sat right with me."

"Jesus," Shepard says.

Hardison raises his eyebrows. "Yeah, wow, I can see how that might not sit right."

Miranda frowns. "Cerberus is supposed to elevate humanity, not tear down other species. If you had concerns about the admin's conduct, you could have taken it up with her superiors."

"What, as a brand new recruit? How long do you think I would have lasted before I was let go for unsatisfactory performance, or failure to comply with weapon storage protocols, or something like that?"

Miranda's frown deepens, but she doesn't say anything.

"Why don't we go take down this crooked admin right now?" Jack suggests eagerly. "C'mon, Shepard, this mission went so quick, we've got to have some extra time."

The faceplate on Tali's helmet reflects the colored bar lights as she looks between Shepard and Jack. "We can use the publicity from exposing this 'free clinic' scandal against Cerberus. Blow it up big, make them scramble to cover their asses. We can use what we found on the Ackers, too, once the Initiative launches. It can't hurt their chances for last-minute investors once they're in dark space."

Sid's about to ask why the Initiative's reputation matters so much, but at the dark look on Shepard's face, she thinks better of it. She takes another drink of her krogan beer instead. It's really not that strong, once you get used to it.

The air seems to get thicker as they wait for Shepard to speak. She looks each of her crew members in the eyes, one by one, then seems to make up her mind. "You know what? What the hell. Cerberus may have brought me back to life — thank you again, Miranda — but they didn't buy me, or anyone else here. The longer we work for them, the more questions I have. Let's stop playing along; let's get some answers. Let's take them down."

The table erupts in cheers. Someone's drink sloshes down Sid's collar, but she barely notices.

Shepard raises her voice to carry over the general hubbub. "Miranda, Jacob, if you're not comfortable going against your employer, you're free to leave. I'd hate to have to fight against you, though. Jack, you were right and I was wrong; I'll formally apologize again when we're all sober if you want. Tali, it sounds like you have a plan?"

"Oh, a detailed one," Tali says. "But first, we'll need a ship. The Normandy SR-2 is a beauty, but it's got so much Cerberus tech on it, they could track us with their eyes closed. We're better off in a clean ship, even if it's not the fastest or best."

"Lucky for us, we're in a spaceport," Kasumi says. "Plenty of ships going in and out all the time. Point me to one and I'll steal it for us."

Across the table, Eliot shakes his head. "Plenty of ships, but plenty of security. With all the unchecked pirate activity in the Terminus systems, the docks are crawling with guards and the Initiative scrutinizes anything that smells even a tiny bit."

"We almost didn't get in on our own ship," Parker adds. "Which is how we knew this place had to be interesting."

"Nothing says we have to make our break right here," Shepard says. "There are plenty of less regulated ports to choose from."

"And lose who knows how much time looking," Tali says.

Jacob says, "She has a point. Plus, this is one of the only places in the Terminus systems we don't stick out like a sore thumb. Anywhere else, a ship like the Normandy attracts a lot more attention."

Something niggles at the back of Sid's mind, behind all the foggy layers of alcohol and celebration. Something from when she first got here — hacking into the Initiative records, maybe? No, it was something from wandering around the station. "I've got it!" she says, and only realizes the conversation has moved on to another topic when she's met with puzzled stares. "Your ship," she explains. "I know the perfect one. The Tempest line, the ships they're building for all the Pathfinders to scout around in once we get to Andromeda? State of the art, cloaking, faster than anything out there—" she senses she's getting lost down a tangent and cuts herself off. "They built a prototype model. Before they built the actual ships they're taking with them. It's just getting donated to the Garson Foundation museum once they leave, no one will even care if you take it."

Kasumi's mouth curls deviously. "And you're saying it's here, now?"

Sid concentrates. She can almost retrace her steps from when she was marched out of that restricted area that time, but the specifics are eluding her at the moment. "It's in — a big hangar...somewhere?"

Kasumi pats her hand. "Aw, don't worry, honey. We can look it up later. Shepard, please let me steal this ship. We need a ship, I didn't get to steal anything, the ship's right there. It's perfect."

Tali looks up from where she's evidently been looking up the specs of the Tempest and chimes in. "Yes, please let her steal this ship, Shepard. I take it all back, we absolutely need the fastest ship."

The corner of Shepard's mouth tugs up into a smile. "Alright, sounds like we're doing this. You have my permission to steal the ship."

"We'll help if you need anything," Parker says. "We probably owe you after how much your crew chipped in. And we're pretty good at stealing things."

Sid doesn't remember the rest of the evening too well, after that point. She knows they clear everything off the middle of the table and start brainstorming strategies and paths through the station using paper napkins and straws as markers. There's definitely singing at one point, and a round of bright colored shots that she can't remember if she took one or not, and someone yelling for Shepard to get up and dance. When she tries, she finds herself unable to organize these into a logical series of events, however.

At one point Parker puts her hand on Sid's arm and says, "Oh no, this one is not going home by herself tonight. You can sleep on our couch. Eliot?"

Sid looks around and huh, people are going home. Eliot comes over and drags her arm over his shoulders and hoists her up. The room doesn't spin so much as it tilts sideways.

"Oh boy," Hardison says, and grabs her other arm.

Sid blinks, and they're outside the bar. "What?"

"You're drunk," Parker says, as if repeating herself. "You can sleep it off on our couch."

Then somehow they're in the tram, and before she knows it, she's face down in a roughly upholstered cushion. Parker holds out a glass of water, and Sid clumsily figures out how to be upright enough to drink it.

"Thanks," she says.

"Aw, don't worry about it," Parker says. "You'll feel better soon. Do you want, um, a blanket or anything?"

Hardison comes out of the other room holding a blanket and a pillow. "You always get a guest a blanket, Parker, it's one of those things."

Parker makes a face at him. "Ugh, who was watching what she drank? Isn't that one of those things, too?"

"Should be," Hardison agrees. "Kasumi was sitting next to her, I think."

"Kasumi is the nicest and the best," Sid mumbles.

Hardison hands her the pillow and the blanket. "We'll be in the other room if you need anything. If you need to throw up, there's a bucket right here."

Sid lies down. Lying down makes the room go sideways again. "Turians don't throw up," she says.

"There's a bucket anyway, just in case that's a joke," Hardison says. "Good night."

Sid thinks she says good night back, but she falls asleep so fast, it's hard to tell.

-

The doorbell rings sinfully early. Honestly, Parker hadn't even known their apartment had a doorbell.

Eliot groans and covers his head with his pillow. "You get it, Parker, you're already awake."

Technically true, but Parker had woken up approximately ten seconds ago. She hasn't had time to get out of bed, or do her morning stretches, or put on clothes.

"Hardison should get it, he's on the outside."

Hardison, still fast asleep, has no response to this. Eliot looks out from under his pillow with one eye. "As if you can't climb over him."

"And you."

"I have faith."

The doorbell rings again.

"Okay, fine, I'll get it," Parker says. She's feeling more awake by now, anyway. She extracts herself from the bed and puts on a robe, then tiptoes across the main room to answer the door.

There's no one there. Parker looks both ways down the dimly-lit hall and sees someone walking away to the left. They look familiar. "Psst," Parker whispers. The person turns around, and Parker was right, she does recognize her — it's Peebee from the ball the other night. "Do you want to come in?" Parker whispers.

Peebee comes back down the hall. "Why are you whispering?"

"Sleeping houseguest," Parker whispers. She holds the door open.

After a moment's indecision, Peebee comes in.

Parker closes the door behind her and turns on the kettle for tea. "What brings you here this early?"

"Early? It's the middle of the afternoon — oh, I guess we must be on different shifts."

"Possible. We kind of just adjusted to the general schedule of the neighborhood when we got here. I think mostly people who work on the construction crews live here."

Parker puts tea bags in two cups and brings them over to the small built-in table that separates the kitchen area from the living room area. "So what brings you here in this arbitrary early or not early, depending on your shift, time?"

Peebee shrugs. "I dunno. You said to come over some time, so I figured I'd...do that."

"I did say that," Parker agrees. "How's things with Kalinda? Did she ever catch on to our ruse?"

Peebee shrugs again. "Not that she said. She didn't have any meetings today, so she was being a pain in the ass about a flower arrangement."

"Sounds annoying."

Peebee sighs heavily. "Ugh, you have no idea."

The kettle switches itself off and Parker gets up to get it. She gets a container of biscotti that Eliot made the other day, too. "Help yourself," she says, putting the container down in front of Peebee and pouring their tea.

Peebee takes a biscotti slice and nibbles on it. "You probably don't want to hear about my stupid relationship, anyway. What do normal people people talk about when they go over to each other's houses?"

"I would have no way of knowing," Parker says. "The people in this house were probably going to talk about stealing a spaceship, once the rest of them woke up."

Peebee's eyes widen over the rim of her teacup. "Okay, now this, I have to hear about."

Parker grins. "Apparently there's an extra ship just lying around here. Brand new, perfect flight condition, and going into the hands of people who will never appreciate her."

"Tell me absolutely everything."

"That's about all there is, right now," Parker says. "Most of us were pretty drunk when we came up with the plan."

Peebee pushes her teacup to the side and leans forward. "May I suggest robots? Or explosives?"

"Are you volunteering?"

"I don't have any robots right now, unfortunately. Wouldn't fit in my luggage. But I might know where to get explosives around here."

Hardison wanders out of the bedroom looking freshly-showered. "I believe I just heard the word 'explosives' before I've had any coffee."

Parker re-introduces them. "You technically know each other already," she points out.

"Oh, you're the one on the coms," Peebee says. "Nice to put a face to the voice."

"Yup, I'm a full, complete person," Hardison says. "Face and all."

Parker scoots over on the bench bench seat to make room. He starts up the coffee maker and joins them. "Please, don't stop discussing explosives on my account."

"Peebee has a plan for liberating the Tempest prototype from its captors," Parker says.

"I really don't. But if you were going to use explosives, which I may or may not have impulse-bought when I was grocery shopping and need to find a use for, you might want to consider a controlled explosion close to a public area to cause a diversion."

Parker puts down her tea. "Wait, they sell explosives at the grocery store here?"

"It was on the way. I mean, it may or may not have been on the way. If I had any explosives."

"Let me get Eliot," Hardison says. "He won't want to miss this."

He gets up and comes back with Eliot, and the conversation derails for a while when they find out they all happen to watch the same series on the extranet. Sid finally wakes up when Eliot starts making breakfast.

"How do you feel?" Hardison asks when she comes over.

"Tired."

"Just tired?"

Sid shrugs. "I guess."

"Ah, to be young again. I remember when I didn't used to get hangovers."

"I only had like half of one beer. And maybe a shot," Sid grumbles. She eyes the stove longingly. "None of that is dextro food, is it?"

"I wouldn't be any kind of host if I didn't keep a few dextro staples on hand," Eliot says. He points to a smaller pan of home fries and sausage. "That one's all yours. I didn't have any eggs you could eat, though, sorry."

Once they've all eaten and put their dishes in the sink, the discussion turns back to stealing the Tempest prototype. Sid's able to remember where she saw it much more easily sober, and Hardison pinpoints her directions to a large empty space on the station map.

"This must be the hangar where they're building the ships. It's just on here as 'storage' though."

"Maybe it's because they're building a bunch of ships that use top-secret tech and they don't want anyone stealing them. Just a thought," Peebee says.

Parker smiles. "Seems plausible. See if there's a service tunnel or something in the floor above the hangar, we should get some eyes on this before we go in. And we should call Kasumi, she's probably doing all this on her end right now."

The call with Kasumi quickly turns into a visit with Kasumi, and since the people from the Normandy can't seem to travel in groups smaller than three, the apartment quickly fills up. They move their schematics to the coffee table, for space, and then to the floor when that isn't enough space. Kasumi leaves to do recon, alone, to Parker's regret. The only way to get a good look at the ships and security is on the catwalks, and Parker agrees that Kasumi's cloaking makes her the ideal candidate for the job. Back in the apartment, Parker and Tali update the maps based on Kasumi's intel.

By mid-afternoon Parker's time, late evening Peebee's time, the plan is coming together.

Within another hour or so, they've gone over every particular for a third or fourth time, and the general consensus is that the plan is airtight.

Peebee leaves first, citing an inability to keep her eyes open for one second longer, and then the others file out in ones and twos.

-

The light around the speaker blinks on, and a second later Peebee's voice fills the room. Hardison has his com system hooked up to Vetra and Sid's entertainment system so everyone huddled together in the cramped studio apartment can listen in. It lends a bit too much drama to the whole affair, in Miranda's opinion.

Peebee sounds slightly out of breath. "Charges placed! Oh, that was fun."

Hardison leans toward the mic. "Where are Parker and Kasumi? Are they with you?"

"Right behind her," Parker says. "Ran into a guard who was just staying put instead of patrolling, but Kasumi was able to lure him away."

"Good. Call in again once you're at the rendezvous point. Timing is everything."

"We wouldn't let one little guard throw off the whole plan, Hardison," Kasumi says.

"Copy that," Parker says, and the coms go silent.

Eliot stands. "That's our cue."

Miranda shifts to the side to let him squeeze through. As a base of operations, the apartment leaves much to be desired. It's centrally located, sure, close to the hangar where the ships are being built and a short walk from where the Normandy is docked. It's hardly larger than Miranda's office on the Normandy, though, which is itself much smaller than her permanent office at the base. A couch, entertainment center, and set of bunk beds fill the room; it's hard to imagine how two people can comfortably share the space, much less the seven people and their equipment who are now trying to make it work.

Jack follows Eliot to the door, stepping over someone's legs to reach it. She turns and flashes a dangerous-looking smile. "See you all on the flip side, gang."

They leave, and Miranda shifts her weight forward, primed to get up and go even though she doesn't leave for another five minutes, according to the timetable they all agreed to. The idea is to not look like a large, organized crew of armed mercenaries marching through the station together. So far, it's working.

Next to her, Shepard leans forward as if she's about to speak.

"Having second thoughts?" Miranda asks.

Shepard looks up. "Who, me? No, it was a long time coming. Just needed a bit of a kick in the ass to get going. Wait — is this my subtle cue to ask you if you're having second thoughts?"

Miranda stares at the paste-colored wall ahead of her. "I've never had much time for second thoughts. I don't think I would have started this if I had doubts about where it might end."

"Where did this start? When you rebuilt me?"

Miranda laughs dryly. "Could be. Maybe I was building an escape hatch before I even knew I'd want one."

Shepard smiles. "Could have done worse."

"We'll have to do something about my sister. I'm under no illusion they won't use her against me the moment they think it might work."

"All the more reason to get out," Shepard says. "Between you, me, and all our friends, we'll be able to keep her safe."

Miranda gets to her feet. "Alright, that's all the quiet reflection I've got in me right now. Hardison, are we about ready to go?"

Hardison checks the timetable. "About one minute. Eliot and Jack should be checking in any second now."

Tali steps around Hardison and Sid at the makeshift command center on the coffee table, and joins Miranda by the door. On Hardison's signal, they leave the apartment and head toward the rendezvous point outside the entrance to the hangars. They go by a different route than Hardison and Jack took, but no one pays them any attention anyway. The area near the docks is full of people, and the omnipresent guards are paying more attention to the people coming in than the people passing through.

Sid is staying behind to coordinate everyone remotely, which Sid had been ridiculously unhappy about. Luckily, none of the others had given into Sid's repeated requests to be given a role on the front lines. Shepard and Hardison will follow them to the rendezvous point after another acceptable interval. Shepard's maintaining radio contact with Joker, who will pilot the Normandy to a remote moon with the rest of the team on board. The Tempest prototype — they're going to have to rename the ship eventually — will meet them there and do the official transfer of equipment and crew. Anyone who isn't on board with going pirate, as Jack has started calling it, will be free to take the Normandy to any port they want.

Miranda and Tali arrive uneventfully at the storage room that's serving as their rendezvous point, and slip inside. The door to the storage room is on a second level mezzanine that overlooks the entrance to the cavernous hangar where all five pathfinder ships — the prototype, and one actual model for each ark — are being built. Closest to the entrance is the prototype, complete and officially decommissioned after a handful of flight tests. Next to it is the ship destined for the human ark, followed by two more ships, still under construction. At the far end is an empty space, where the ship for the turian pathfinder has already been completed and sent to meet its ark. Past that are the vast hangar doors, and past that, the vacuum of space.

It's on this end that Parker, Kasumi, and Peebee set the charges. Peebee didn't have quite as many explosives on hand as she had made it out to seem at first; so what they have is rigged more for noise and smoke than structural damage. It's far enough from anywhere people are actually working that no one should get hurt, but close enough to draw attention away from the main entrance for a few critical seconds.

The atmosphere in the storage room is tense and anticipatory. It's a larger space than Sid's apartment, and only half full of crates, but everyone's clustered together, waiting to hear the next update. Miranda paces the length of the room. She can't imagine anything worse for her state of mind right now than to be hemmed in on all sides by people.

Finally, Hardison and Shepard enter and close the door behind them. "No one following us," Hardison says. "We should be good to go."

Parker updates Sid on their status; Sid sends back a quick confirmation.

Shepard leans over and speaks into the mic. "Just heard from Joker. They're ready for takeoff on their end. Just waiting on takeoff clearance from the station."

Miranda centers herself and wonders, briefly, if this is where an ordinary person would begin to feel nervous. She doesn't see the need; their plan has every likelihood of success. On the off chance it doesn't work, she's confident of her ability to improvise.

Across the room, Tali asks, "Are you sure you won't come with us? We can use all the help we can get." It sounds like a continuation of a conversation that's already been started, although Miranda would definitely have paid attention if people started recruiting new crew members left and right now. They may be going rogue, but they aren't abandoning the chain of command, last Miranda heard.

Parker, Eliot, and Hardison appear to have a conversation with their eyes.

"We couldn't have got here without the three of you," Tali presses. "And we've barely even scratched the surface."

"A big long crusade isn't really our style. You guys got this," Eliot says.

"Oh hey, if we're making pitches, I've got one. What about a brand new galaxy?" Peebee asks.

"Intriguing. I'd be open to hearing more," Hardison says.

Peebee ticks items off on her fingers. "A very reliable source tells me they're still taking applications. Applicants who are established partners get higher priority than individuals. And I think Sid would miss you if you stayed."

"You know I can hear you, right?" Sid says over the com. "The channel is open right now."

"This is very interesting, but let's decide the fate of the rest of our lives sometime when we're not on standby to blow shit up, okay?" Parker says.

"You got it, babe," Hardison says.

Miranda files the conversation away for later. She'll have to talk to Shepard about crew members recruiting their friends onto the team; whether the expectations are different now that they don't answer to anyone other than themselves.

She takes a breath and files that concern away, too. Right now her only concern is clearing her mind before battle.

"Normandy is cleared for takeoff," Shepard relays, after not too long.

Miranda moves to stand closer to the others.

The others grow visibly tense with waiting until Shepard says. "The Normandy is airborne, and...clear of station space."

Over the com, Sid repeats, "Normandy's clear. Phase two, you're good to go."

Phase two is where things start to get interesting. Tali pilots a tiny camera drone, planted in the empty bay along with the explosives for this purpose, to do one last sweep of the area.

"No personnel within the radius," Tali reports.

On her cue, Parker presses the button on the remote detonator. There's nothing more than a faint rumble to indicate that the bombs went off.

"Alright, phase three, it's all you," Sid says.

This is the phase where it gets fun, or, more accurately, where Miranda gets to do anything. Eliot and Jack leave the room, with Miranda, Hardison, and Tali following close behind. The doorway to the hangar is open during working hours, and they drop down to the lower level and march straight in like they own the place. As expected, the explosion has drawn most of the security guards and workers in the hanger to the far end of the space, away from their target. A group of engineers who had been working inside one of the other ships is heading toward the entrance in a more or less orderly fashion, clearly following some prearranged evacuation protocol. Eliot waves a few of them by as they pass in the opposite direction, before ducking behind a piece of large machinery to efficiently render a security guard unconscious. Jack ranges on ahead, coiled so tight it makes Miranda's head ache to look at her.

Their group crosses the open space quickly; one more guard crosses their path but Jack incapacitates him before he can raise the alarm. They reach the control tower largely undetected. It's an odd structure built into the ceiling of the hangar, accessible by a single exposed stairway from the floor. The problem is getting in and out; while they're inside, it's easily the most defensible position in the place.

Eliot and Tali cover the bottom of the stairs and Jack accompanies them to the first landing. If there had been station staff around the control tower, the explosion worked to draw them away. Miranda and Hardison don't meet anyone until they reach the control room at the top. There's a lone operator sitting at the console with his back to the door, attention absorbed on the scene unfolding at the other side of the hangar. It's the easiest thing in the world to stick the tranquilizer dart in the operator's neck and drag him into a corner when he slumps over the console. He never even sees their faces.

MIranda bolts the door behind them and draws her gun to cover for Hardison as he works. "We're in," she says to Sid over the coms.

"Copy that," she says. She hears Sid relay the information to the others.

The control tower is windows all around; through one, Miranda sees Jack and Tali go with Eliot to cover the path between the entrance and the Tempest prototype. It's pretty much a straight line, but their operation is beginning to attract attention. Under the landing gear of the second-nearest ship, a guard is crouching, hand on their gun. "Status on the hack?" Miranda asks.

In under a minute, Hardison has achieved a state of deep communion with the control console. He answers without looking up or pausing typing. "Ready when you are."

"On my signal, then," Miranda says. At the entrance, the rest of their team are making their way from the storage room into the hangar. Peebee lingers by the entrance, relating some last-minute message to Parker before peeling off to return to Sid's apartment. Miranda counts them off, and as soon as everyone's inside, says, "Now."

Hardison enters a command on the console. "Lockdown initiated."

The giant door on the entrance begins rolling shut. From the outside, the lockdown will look like a response to the explosion — standard precaution to contain the spread of fire or the escape of arsonists. That should buy them enough time to get away, in Miranda's estimation; to increase their chances further, Hardison has hacked the lockdown command so it can only be lifted from inside the control tower.

Keeping an eye on the stairs — no one's even close yet — Miranda scans the rest of the area. One worker is coming toward their end of the hangar, but it's impossible to tell whether it's for them or something else. Miranda keeps an eye on her. So far the bulk of the workers still seem to be occupied putting out the fire.

The crew makes it onto the Tempest prototype, and Hardison starts going through a series of preflight maneuvers with Tali: powering up each system on the ship; disengaging the clamps that held the landing gear in place; establishing a clear takeoff path.

By this time, the usefulness of the diversion has run its course. The bulk of the dock workers are coming toward the ship, with the guards flanking out around them, guns drawn. Miranda counts a dozen worker and six or seven guards, but that seems low. If she were them, she'd have people hiding behind the machinery, out of their line of sight, to disguise their numbers.

"We've got incoming, Hardison, how much longer?"

Hardison sighs. "Couple more minutes. There's all these warm-up procedures the doors have to go to through that weren't in any of the documentation for some reason."

Miranda looks at the giant hangar bay doors at the far end, as if watching them will make them open any faster. The guards are still incoming, and without an exit, they're stuck here waiting for them. She gets the idea behind their agreement to keep things non-lethal, but this would be a whole lot easier with a sniper rifle.

"Eliot, Jack, we've got hostile incoming. Hardison, I'm blowing out this window."

"What?" Hardison says, then ducks and curses under his breath as she blows out the window directly in front of them. It's a very controlled maneuver; none of the glass even lands inside the tower.

Miranda throws a bunch of crates and equipment in the way of the advancing guards — not close enough to hurt them, but close enough to make them scatter. A few scatter in the wrong direction, toward the prototype, and take the opportunity to start shooting. Jack pushes them back with apparent relish. She skids them across the floor instead of throwing them into the air, though, so apparently she's taking the non lethal rule to heart.

At the far end of the space, there's a low groan as the bay doors begin to ease open, almost imperceptibly at first, and then faster. "Finally," Hardison exclaims, triumphant.

That's their cue to leave. "Bay doors open," Miranda reports to Sid.

"Go for it!" Sid exclaims. "I mean, phase — fuck it, I forgot if this was phase three or phase four. Go on, get out of there, you know what to do."

It's been years since Miranda's been a part of an informal team without the benefit of a hierarchy and protocol dictating everyone's interactions. Words seem inadequate, suddenly. "It's been nice working with you," Miranda tries. "Stay safe."

"Likewise," Hardison says. His part of the job accomplished, he ducks down and begins to divest the unconscious control tower operator of his jumpsuit.

After that, things move very fast. The window of time to get into the ship, launch it, and make it out of the station before someone makes it to the tower and overrides their unauthorized launch and closes the bay doors is narrow already, and even narrower after factoring in the time it would take the Leverage crew to get away.

Miranda vaults down the stairs a flight at a time and sprints toward the ship. Jack joins her, still flinging station personnel away even as she runs, and then they're leaping up onto the landing ramp as the ship takes off.

The ramp closes slowly — clearly not designed to be used during liftoff — and through the gap Miranda can see that Parker and Eliot have taken cover; presumably to change into their own disguises. Jack has switched from using a biotic push on the guards to pulling them toward the ship, away from their teammates on the ground. Miranda joins her until the gap is too small to see through.

"Oh, this isn't good — hold on," Tali says from the cockpit. The ship tilts at a steep angle, sending Miranda and Jack tumbling down the floor of the cargo bay. Miranda grabs a railing and impulsively holds out her other hand to Jack, who, to her great surprise, takes it. There's a scraping sound from outside that seems to reverberate through the hull of the ship, and then the ship rights itself and Miranda can feel a press of dampened inertia that makes her ears pop, signalling a sharp acceleration.

"And we're out," Tali announces. "Please feel free to make your way to the bridge at any time to congratulate your pilot on getting us out through a closing hangar door with only five centimeters of clearance. And to help brainstorm names for our new baby, who as of thirty seconds ago, officially belongs to us."

Shepard's voice cuts in. "Congratulations, Tali. There are ample meeting spaces in here; please do not congregate on the bridge. Estimated time to arrival for Normandy handoff, eighteen hours."

Jack stands and offers a hand to Miranda. Miranda hesitates for a second, and Jack rolls her eyes. "Don't get used to it."

Miranda takes the hand up and dusts herself off. "Well," she says. "Let the adventures begin."

**Author's Note:**

> Content note: there is a scene where Peebee is the POV character, and still together with her canonical abusive ex, Kalinda. Kalinda is controlling and emotionally abusive onscreen during that scene, and Peebee defends Kalinda's behavior to some extent, because sadly they don't break up until they get to Andromeda (after which point I imagine Peebee dumps her IMMEDIATELY). If you would like to skip that scene, it begins with a description of a ballroom, and the next scene begins with "Eliot leans over Hardison's shoulder".


End file.
